Walls

Chapter 20- Flowers

Isn't it funny how flowers are the most beautiful things in the world until they're wilted and dead. Then we just dump them in the trash and move on. And isn't it funny how you always hope to receive flowers until they're attached to a card that says 'sorry for your loss'?
I'm not sure what to do anymore. Her memorial has come and gone. There was a private one for just her family and friends and one for her fans to come visit. They were both lovely and every fan who came was outstandingly kind and respectful. She would've loved it.
I still find myself looking for her every time I hear a joke, to see if she thought it was funny, but she's never there. I'll never hear her laugh or see her smile or do that little thing where she sort of sticks her tongue out, again.
The apartment is cold without her there to lie next to me and keep me warm. Her scent is starting to fade from the sheets. I miss her more than anything. I find myself listening to her songs and interviews on repeat just to hear her voice once more.
I've shut myself away since she died. It's just how I cope. Her friends have been stopping by, bringing me food, checking in as Taylor would have wanted, but I'd rather be alone. It's easier to be by myself. I don't have to fake smiles or act as if I'm working toward moving past my grief, because I'm not. You don't get over someone like her. You rarely come across someone as extraordinary.
Her death wasn't fair. She was just another pawn in the media's game and she wasn't strong enough to win. They built her up and then knocked her down when they were bored, waiting to see how many times she could fall before she stopped getting back up. They drained every ounce of life and self worth from her and replaced it with doubt and a distorted image of herself. They made her into something no one recognized, not even herself.
I finally decide to get out of bed. It's 3, not much point in going out now. I decide to take a shower since its been a few days. My beard is long and my hair flattened to my head. My face is paler than usual and my posture is shit. I look terrible.
The water is hot and it feels nice. Comforting. Taylor used to tell me how comforting a nice warm shower always was to her. Funny saying was when referring to her. I always talked about her in the present tense, but now I can't.
I'm broken from that thought when my phone rings. I finish up and return the call, it was from Stuart, my manager. I don't want to speak to him, he did take me from Taylor when I needed to be there after all.
"Hello?"
"I'm just returning your call"
"I'm glad, I was getting worried mate. You've been a little off the radar"
"Well that's what happens when your girlfriend dies out of nowhere to a disorder you could've been around to help her cope with." My remark is met with a sigh
"Listen I know you're in a bad way, but you have to get out. You can't keep doing this to yourself. Taylor wouldn't want it."
"Don't tell me what she would have wanted. You hardly knew her."
"I know, I apologize. I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the pub tonight, get your mind off it."
"Fine, what time?"
"Nine"
"Okay I'll meet you."
We hang up and I actually bother to get ready.
It'll be nice to get out I guess. I'm tired of eating death casseroles, they're all I've had around to eat for weeks.
Everything I go to do has a memory of Taylor attached to it. At the sink I remember all those times she used to sneak up behind me while I was brushing my teeth. Every little thing in this apartment is attached to her. Every counter, every chair, every square inch of floor she once stood on. I see images of the first time I was here and how happy we were. I see the first time I found her making herself throw up and I remember the look on her face as I ran out. I remember the first full meal I got her to eat after recovery. I remember the night we shared when she finally felt comfortable enough to share her body with me again. All of it screams her. Except her scent is fading from the house. The pillow no longer smells like the scent only she could put on it. No amount of spraying her perfume can help that.
Hours later I grab my wallet and head to the pub Stu and I meet at. The air is cold, but not too bad. It's fall, her favorite season. If she were here she'd be jumping in leave piles with some pumpkiny, warm drink in hand. She's be wearing some cute flannel outfit with jeans that make her ass look amazing, and some type of boots. If there was breeze she'd purposely forget her coat so that we could share mine.

As I walk into the bar I am hit with warmth and the sound of loud music. I see Stu in our usual seat and make my way over to him. My usual drink is waiting for me with a burger and fries.

"Hey Eddy, how you doing?" He greets me.

"Oh well my girlfriend is dead, so there's that."

"My bad. Stupid question."

"It's alright I shouldn't have snapped. I'm just having a rough go of it."

"I get it mate. Just sit down and have a drink and some food."

"Thanks for the burger. The only things I've had to eat is widower casserole 

since...." 

The night goes okay. We just watch some american football and drink. A few people who were fans of Taylor come up to me and say they're sorry, but for the most part there's just sad stares. A news thing about her came up and they changed the channel right away. She's everywhere yet no where. 

The thing about it is, she was loved by so many people, but she didn't know it because of her inability to love herself. She knew that she was fine the way she was, but looking into the mirror, all she could see was made up imperfections. Her disorder took over her life until she didn't exist. She was floating around until she just ceased to exist. 

A/N: And that my friends is the end. I'm extremely proud of this story and I hope you guys enjoyed this. If you or anyone you know are struggling with an eating disorder please seek help. The most important thing is support. I love you all and thanks for the love :)